Dead Man's Blood AU
by Samsquatch67
Summary: (I know, that title was so creative wasn't it.) AU from Dead Man's Blood on, no slash, not a deathfic, hurt!Sam,I own nothing. For ynolds.777 :) SUMMARY: Sam was noticing it again. They were doing it, all over again, just like they used to. "Protect Sammy". He was only trying to prove himself to them, not expecting YED to get involved. He never imagined this would happen.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the first... well, I'm not sure what yet. It could be a chapter fic, could be a 'verse, or it could be a series of one-shots.** **We shall see. **

**This bit was co-authored by .777... its her idea, this is. She has some great ideas! And anyway... Hope you like this, .777. **

Luther, the vampire, had been holding Sam hostage as the whole trade went wrong. Luther was holding Sam by the neck and had his right arm twisted painfully behind his back.

John watched as Sam's face twisted in pain, Luther dislocating Sam's wrist with a quiet **pop**. Sam yelped in pain, grinding his teeth together. Infuriated, John's nostrils flared, anger burning deep in his dark eyes. No one hurt his children.

Aiming, precisely, he fired the Colt, the shot ringing through the air, and hit Luther right between the eyes. Luther instantly let go of Sam: his body jolting as sparks of light came from his forehead, before he dropped onto the ground bonelessly.

Luther's life mate screamed and ran over to him, flinging Sam out the way with surprising strength. He hit the pavement next to John's truck, his head making a thudding sound as it connected with the pavement. Dizzy and disoriented, he blinked owlishly as Dean and John hauled him up.

The last two vampires escaped, tugging with them Luther's hysterical 'girlfriend'.

TIMEWARP~ John's truck pulled into an actually nice motel, a DAYS INN, and the Impala right behind the truck.

The eldest Winchester hopped out and walked into the check in area, looming next to the front desk, and got a ground level room with a pull out couch and two queens.

He walked back to his truck and drove to number 12 at the end of the lot, and Dean pulled up along side.

Both older Winchester jumped out their cars and immediately made their move towards the passenger side of the Impala as Sam opened up the door-looking up, his moss green eyes clouded and confused while he tried to stand up, losing his balance.

Dean reached for him, gripping his arms to steady him, "D mnit! Whoa Sam, hold on, let me help you." Sam looked somewhere between embarrassed, confused, and annoyed. His head throbbed and the more he tried to focus, think, or move, the more it hurt.

Noticing John standing there as well, Sam pushed Dean away, "M'fine." he mumbled and turned to the right, perhaps a little to fast. The dizzy, vertigo wave hit him again, and he felt himself pitching forward. Retching on the ground, he groaned miserably.

An arm around his waist, Sam figured it was Dean, and, ready to tell him to let go, he looked down to see it wasn't Dean's arm, but John's.

"Sure you are." John replied to Sam's 'I'm fine' answer. "Let's get you inside, Dean grab the bags, and first aid."

Sam's head was screaming in protest at any movement, the headache behind his eyes threatened to push his eyes from their socket, electricity shooting around inside of his head, his wrist was stiff and sent shooting pain up his arm. Basically, he was in too much pain to say anything or protest anyway.

Until he felt John fully grasp his waist with one arm and lift with ease. Sam yelped as he felt himself being lifted off the ground, before he knew what was happening, his dad had his other arm underneath Sam legs, where they bent at the knee. Sam was forced to wrap his arm around his father's neck so he didn't lose his balance, and could feel the heat creeping into his cheeks as his face turned red.

"Uh, Dad, I'm…" before he could finish his sentence, John shushed him and started to walk towards the room. Sam knew his face was probably beet red and couldn't stop thinking Dean was never going to let him live this down.

Once inside, John walked over to the bed furthest from the door, (of course), and placed Sam down. Sam, still in shock, asked, "Uh, thanks?" his voice sounded tired as it wavered. John knelt down next to Sam. "Let's see, Sam."

Sam was holding his right wrist close to his chest as John reached out and gently pried his hand away from him, helping him remove the hoodie. Dean walked in with the bags, placed them down and walked over with the first aid kit and sat next to Sam. John looked at Dean, "Dislocated wrist, we're gonna have to pop it back in." John told Dean.

Sam paled at hearing that, knowing that it was going to hurt like a b*tch. Clenching his un-injured hand, and at the count of three, when John pulled and twisted and it snapped back in place, Sam tried not to scream: but failed epically and then sagged into Dean after it was over.

Sweat broke over his face. He was already shock-y from what was probably a concussion, nothing new for a Winchester, though. John quickly splinted it and gave him some pain meds.

"Try to sleep off the concussion, Sammy." Dean said, his rough voice softened slightly, somehow. "I'll wake up every hour." He continued. Sam had barely heard the comment, as he was already mostly out of it.

**Thanks again, .777 :) Going to try and write the next bit fast as I can!**


	2. Chapter 2

**So here's the next bit... :) Action starts next chapter or so, probably ;)**

"Gotta keep Sam safe," that was John's voice. "Hun'in this demon? It's a bad son of a b!tch." still John. "I know…" Dean. "When the fight goes down, I'm gonna do everything I can to protect you boys. To protect Sammy." John.

Sam let out a sprinkler system sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as his face crumpled, three or five or maybe ten… fifty Tokyo drummers inside of his brain.

Swallowing loudly, and half-way through trying to take a breath, he rolled over to face the motel wall, forehead leaning against the solid, burgundy colored wall.

"'Long I've been out?" he said hoarsely, licking his dry lips. "A full day." Dean answered, his voice suddenly seemed to be right next to Sam, his voice sounded like a yell, causing the younger hunter to flinch.

"Feel like ya have a nasty hangover?" John asked, seeming to disregard his headache-bordering-on-migraine. Groaning loudly as a reply, he heard Dean breath out a curse, his voice quieter and farther away.

With a noisy sigh, Sam pulled himself off the bed, grabbing his duffel off the floor and pressing the palm of his hand against his temple, his fingers pressing through his dark hair and into his scalp. "'M takin' a shower." He informed, and with bodily force slammed the door. A groan followed a moment afterword.

Sam shook his head, fully regretting not slowly shutting the door. As if the movement jostled his brain, he stopped, folding his arms on the bathroom counter and letting his head rest against them.

"We both know he's a magnet for the supernatural. We've got to keep him safe, like we've been doing." John said, as if they both hadn't been thinking the same thing. _What the h#ll…? _Sam thought, suddenly listening to their hushed conversation.

"I know, I do, I really do, but Dad, we can't just baby him, he's a d mn good hunter. We need him for this fight. Just like we need you, and me. All of us." Dean said, quietly. "We'll see. Its better if his pride and egos bruised than if he was dead." There was a momentary pause after John's words,

"Yessir."

Sam quickly turned on the shower before sitting on the floor next to the closed shower curtains, staring at the door. So that's what John really thought? That he couldn't handle himself? He was never going to be a good enough hunter, was he? Not quite fast enough, not quite strong enough, not quite this or that. Not quite the perfect solider.

Well, he could handle himself in a fight.

He'd just have to prove it to them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Ellie. Reynolds SOOO glad you've enjoyed it so far! I know it hasn't been my best writing, but I'm so glad you have liked it!:DDD Sorry this one took so long, also. Action starts in this one, :))))**

It had been three days. Sam had found himself a hunt, an easy hunt, he thought. It was a poltergeist, and after tons of research, he'd found it to be one "Rachel Simpson." She'd killed herself when she was twenty, supposedly after her son did. After even more research, he had discovered what had really happened.

After her son had been MURDERERD, she had started acting weird according to her mother. Weird as in, books on ghosts, poltergeists, and black magic books, the real stuff to. And her journal had just been returned to the mother.

Her 'entry logs' had consisted of what she had actually done. Which had been? Lost her mind, and wanted revenge on her son's murderer, killing herself to become a poltergeist, on purpose, so she could kill him.

Of course, she hadn't planned on being trapped in her house… for about ten years. She had gotten even angrier, and by the time someone had bought the house, there was nothing left of her humanity. So she killed them. And then the next people that moved in.

She had been cremated, of course, because they're ALWAYS cremated, are they not? What she was attached to, he was sure, was her son's ashes and urn. Which had apparently been 'lost after her death'… He would have to break the urn, and, well, he just hoped that that would be enough.

So, when had he had the time to research the hunt? With "I'll bring back lunch"'s and "I'm going to the library.". Luckily, they hadn't asked why much. He didn't even know why he was doing this hunt anymore, but for the fact that he'd come this far, and it wasn't even to prove anything to Dean or John anymore.

But to himself.

Because that was really the only person that critiqued him worse than John, the only person that didn't think he was good enough, whether he admitted it to himself, or not.

Parking the Impala, (Which Dean had let him take to grab some 'dinner'.) Sam hopped out. He popped the trunk, grabbing a rock salt shotgun, a lighter in case, and headed towards the house. The house was a two story, with light pink stucco, a white roof and a large wooden door, and crime scene tape littered around the front yard on the over-grown lawn, and plastered up against the door. The people who owned it now were out for the night.

He quietly stopped in front of the door, kneeling down and setting the shotgun beside himself, pulling out his lock pick kit and picking the door's lock. After the soft **Click**, he picked up the gun from the ground and opened the door, stepping under the crime-scene tape.

Walking inside, the first thing he saw was the living room. Un-matching couches and chairs, and then to the left a kitchen, then to the far right a set of stairs. Sam crammed the lighter in his jacket pocket and held up the shotgun, clearing the first two rooms, a bedroom and the living room. No urn, no ashes, no nothing.

Then up the stairs he went, carefully. As soon as he reached the top he saw a large office room, which a glass door that led out to a balcony. The air suddenly chilled and a woman, pale and sunken eyes, flickered in front of him. Rachel.

Aiming for the ghost's chest, he fired, jolting slightly at the recoil. The poltergeist instantly vaporized into thin air. Bolting forward he riffled through drawers, looked on top of the desk table, looked through the book shelf and on top of it. She appeared again, and he repeated the same thing he had done moments before. His head was throbbing, but he ignored it, pushed it away and ruled it off as nothing.

Cursing loudly, he ran back down the stairs, through the living room and into the bedroom again. Maybe he hadn't searched it well enough.

Flinching as a budgie(Bird) chirped a high pitched noise, and his head instantly swung towards it. Behind the bird's cage, a urn, mahogany brown decorated with two red flowers and the name, "Stephen" engraved into it.

Before he even started running for it, his back collided with the wall. He aimed the shotgun again, firing at the spirit that started screaming at him. And it vanished again. Wasting no more time, he took off towards the urn.

That was when pain, in waves of agony pierced through his skull. A small squeak was the only sound he made as he grimaced, trying to keep moving, keep his grip on the gun, push past it… every movement was agony, jostling his brain and making it feel like his brain was swelling. "n' now…" he gasped, another wave crashed into him like a jeep and sent him to his knees, forgetting about the hunt as he pressed his palms against his temples, crying out and leaning forward.

Images. Flashes. A women in a nightgown, with short black, spiky hair. A baby crying. A picture of Noah's Ark, a.k.a Noah's Bathtub painted on a child's wall. Yellow eyes. Blood dripping. Screaming.

Fire…

The ghost was upon him, and he didn't notice, no, his face was distant, and his eyes, clouded.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! And I used the word 'Jell-O', please don't sue me, I know its copywrited... even though that's really weird... O.o**

As soon as one pain left, another took its place. Pain in his back under his shoulder blade. He didn't hear himself cry out as a flickering hand pushed through his shoulder under the left clavicle bone. He pulled himself sluggishly forward, swiping the cremation urn from its place behind the budgie cage.

It shattered on the ground, spreading the ashes across the floor. The poltergeist screamed, its teeth latched onto his neck as it flickered and threatened to disappear. He let out a scream of pain, blood squirting and bubbling from the new wound as the thing's teeth dug into his neck before it vanished forever.

Holding a hand to his neck, he shakily stood up, stumbling out of the room and towards the door. Blood pooled and seeped through his fingers and ran down his neck, and into the shoulder wound. Cursing, he didn't go back for the shotgun he had forgotten, only tumbled out through the door and jerkily slammed it shut before his knees turned to Jell-O and sent him to the ground.

The ghost must have bitten into a vein, he deduced. Warily he pulled out his phone, with blood covered fingers he flipped it open and dialed Dean's number.

Pain pushed back into his skull and something played out like a video. A women in a light blue nightgown and short black hair moved into a nursery, the walls were painted with pictures of Noah's Ark. There was a man standing above the crib, the light glinted off his yellow eyes, gaining a small gasp from the women, who proceeded to run out of the room searching for a gun. Blood dripping into the babies mouth, then the women burst into the room again, 45 in hand. There was the sound of an air horn and children laughing from outside in the dark. Next image she was pulled to the ceiling, and fire exploded.

"...Sam?! Sammy, where the h#ll have you been? Talk to me, man! SAMMY!" The images left, banished by the sound of Dean's voice over the phone, masked worry.

Rocking back he collapsed backwards, his back hitting the wall of the house as he rose the phone to his ear, one hand still holding onto the still bleeding wound. "Yell-yellow eyes is here." he breathed out as he swallowed what tasted suspiciously like metallic-y blood.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was calm, if not just barely. "Where are you, you okay?" he asked, hearing the strain in his brother's voice as he informed him of Azazel, a.k.a YED. "I'll 'xplain.. everything... m' at Blackford street, off of Centr'l." he gasped quietly, blood loss making his head feel fuzzy and light.

An air horn sounded like someone screaming bloody-murder to Sam. Children giggling and laughing. His eyes instantly fell on a house just two houses down, and he saw the short haired women look out of one of the windows before shutting the curtain. "Dean..." Sam croaked, his voice rising in panic as he ignored the pain and shot up off the ground. "Sammy, stay where you are, I'm coming," *Out of the phone* "Dad, Blackford street of Centrel, now!""

"No... D'n, 's too late... won't make it in time... I've gotta do something..." Sam choked. "No! D mnit Sam, don't move, don't even think! We'll be there in ten minutes!"

"Too long... not fast enough..." Sam said, shaking his head to clear his vision as he jolted into a run towards the house. "Sam!" Dean shouted a warning through clenched teeth.

The youngest Winchester tripped and slammed onto his knees, skidding before he clumsily stood up again, nearly to the house.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled again, and was only answered by the phone hanging up from the other end.

**Sorry for the cliff hanger! ;) THings just got, well, complicated?**


	5. Chapter 5

Dean and John had just gotten to the house, and both of them were moving towards the burning house. Past the women holding a phone and purse in one hand and a baby in the other arm, past the children that gathered around staring at the flames. They were just going towards the house for different reasons. One, to get in despite consequence, the other to stop the first.

"Dean...!" John yelled as he slowly skidded to a stop. "He's in there! D Mnit, he's in there, Dad!" Dean screamed out the reply, his voice sounded raw.

"It's too late... it's too late!" John retorted, his voice choked up as he tried to haul his son away from the house as fire exploded from the front door. "NnnnNNNOOo!" Dean roared, swinging around and catching John on the jaw with a left hook that sent him stumbling backwards, caught off guard.

Another wave of fire burst from the burned and broken door, licking at the sides of the house, smoke billowing from the chimney and open windows. He slipped onto his knees staring at the fire, both hands pressing against the back of his head, fingers intertwined, his eyes watered as he stared at the destroyed house. He flinched as glass exploded from a window and fire started burning down that wall, the roof already completely wrecked and fallen in like debris.

"Sammy..." he whispered brokenly, disbelievingly.

"DEAN!" John's voice suddenly yelled. Dean knew that voice well. He jumped up, spinning around and pulling out the Taurus more out of instinct and habit than anything else. John pulled out the Colt, but it was too late. As soon as the demon had appeared, a smirk on his face and a hand gripping the back of an unconscious-Sam's jacket, he just as soon vanished into thin air, and Sam dropped onto his knees and started falling sideways the rest of the way onto the ground, his eyes closed, covered in blood, and lax.

He was putting the handgun back in his waistband, but it must have been muscle memory, because he was completely focused as he landed heavily on his knees by Sam's side, sliding slightly. Dean's head moved up and sideways, out of Sam's head's trajectory as it thudded against his lower neck. He wrapped an arm around his back to steady his slack brother, resting his chin on top of Sam's head. His other hand checked for a pulse, finding the weak, but still there, heart beat. Sam's smoke filled lungs only let him have small, gasping and wheezing breaths, which Dean could feel puff into his neck.

"Dad, paramedics!" Dean called and watched as their father turned to the woman, speaking quiet words to her to which she nodded briskly and spoke into the phone- probably to the 911 operator. Dean's attention snapped back to Sam as the pulse under his fingers sputtered to a stop. "Sh!t sh!t sh!t," Dean repeated, moving Sam away from himself just slightly. He knew what to do, or he should have, but seeing his brother, bloody, eyes closed, completely limp, lifeless and...

"Set him down! Now, Dean!" his father commanded. He shakily complied, but his eyes never left Sam's face. "Rescue breaths! I'll do chest compressions!" John ordered. "I used to be an EMT, here, hold Luke." the women said, startling Dean as she was right behind him, bending down on one knee and pushing the crying baby into his arms. He nodded mutely and took the kid, standing up and taking several steps back, unable to take his eyes off of the situation in front of him.

The short-haired women pulled out a mouth-to-mouth mask from the blue purse that was dropped on the ground next to her. 15 compressions to every two rescue breaths.

It seemed to drag on, the woman in the nightgown and his father seemed to both fall easily into it as a perfect team. Dean rocked the child and murmured until it calmed down and started playing with the leather jacket's zipper. Dean was still practically holding his breath as he watched the CPR.

Nightgown EMT woman put a hand on his father's chest to stop him as she stared at the mask, which started to fog up from the inside.

Dean restrained himself from dropping the baby and running as his little brother's chest rose and fell.


	6. Chapter 6

**Flashbacks will be in italics/slant _Like so. :) _ So, I'm not fully understanding why the last chapter was a shock, but okay! And .777, hope you like this chapter! (And thank you Souless666 for the review, it was totally unexpected! LOL O.O :D) **

_Running. He was running into the house, his shoulder hurt, his neck hurt, he was running, through rooms, towards the nursery..._

_"Get out of my house!"_

_So now there was a 45 aimed at his face. Grimacing in pain he reached out one hand in a non-threatening manor. "Please, just listen, I'm not trying to hurt you, I..." he didn't know what to say, or how to explain anything. "Someone's trying to kill you... Just wait, its-its-" he stumbled over an explanation. "What happened to you?" her voice suddenly switched to something completely different as she put the gun in her waistband, cautiously and expertly moving her hands over his neck, pulling his hand away and looking at the injury. "Here, I'll get..." she started, before he interrupted abruptly. "No! No, your son, or your daughter, where?" he asked with a loud breath. "Wh..." she started, then stopped when a sound came from the nursery. Crying, on the verge of screaming. A shadow of a person cast out of the room and on the wall..._

_"Luke..." she whispered, horror sweeping over her face as she started running towards the room. "N-" he stopped as he went after her, his head feeling oddly light and filled with cotton as he ran. Entering the room he saw her being pressed up against a wall, calling out "Luke" over and over again as she struggled against the invisible force. Sam ran towards the crib, pulling the baby out of it and trying to make it to the door._

_He could feel eyes on him as he set the baby on the ground, trying to find a way to save the woman. "So nice of you to join us, Sammy!" a voice sent chills up his spine. It sounded familiar. Sickly yellow eyes were on him, and just like the voice, he almost recognized it... Almost recognized him._

_His back hit the wall and knocked the air out of his lungs, and no amount of moving or fighting brought him any closer to being free. On the plus side of things, the demon had let his hold of the women go. She bent down to pick up her baby, and stared with wide eyes at Sam, unmoving. "Go..." he said softly, glancing back at her once. "GO!"_

_He heard her leaving, but his attention was fully on the demon. Azazel up one finger to his lips, a smile twitching on his face as he tilted his head in a jerky movement, "So, psychic Boy..." he cooed with what sounded close to affection. Staying silent, he struggled against the hold the demon had on him, trying to pull away from the wall, only to have his head recoil back and thump against the surface._

_"Hmm..." Azazel murmured, yellow eyes flicking down and up as he looked over Sam. With the flick of a hand, fire started burning down the stairs, eating up the carpet and crawling up to the roof of the house. Smoke billowed out of the chimney, the windows, and through the rooms, moving supernaturally fast as it ate up the house... Azazel's voice interrupted his panicking mind. "Lets talk."_

_  
_

Dean ran a hand down his face, staring at his brother on the hospital bed. He looked pale and even paler surrounded by the white of the hospital sheets, pillows and walls. Hooked up to who-knew-what machinery, Sam had been that way for the past two hours. Paramedics had arrived, taken Sam, and when Dean and John got there, John had papers shoved into his hands and two doctors urging him to sign one certain one of them so they could move onto some operation on his lungs.

The doctor's words, "It was touch-and-go, but he should make it..." and they had gone on about some medically induced coma of which he would be waking up from in an hour or so, and told them they had to staple a vein or something horrible sounding close to that and how they had to do minor surgery on his shoulder, but beyond all of the madness of the hospital and the staff that rushed around non-stop, he couldn't get one image out of his head.

Lifeless. Not breathing. Bloody. Pale. Dead.

"Okay Sleeping Beauty, you can't keep us hanging too long..." he muttered to his brother, huffing out a breath as he listened to the mechanical beeping and whoosh's.


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay... well, I'm just writing this on docX, so, see how this goes! Lol! Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Ellie reynolds 777: (See if it likes it when I type it THAT way) Yeah, I know, I kinda always thought the same thing. Like... Maybe I'll dive into John's thought process. Try and get a glimpse behind his actions? I could try. Haha. :P :)**

**Writing this to Demi Lovato, Without the Love hahaxD So if John suddenly starts singing, "ITS SUCH A JOKE, WHY ARE YOU SINGING ME LOVE SONGS, WHAT GOOD IS A LOVE SONG, WHAT GOOD IS A LOVE SONG WITHOUT THE LOVE?"... yeah... ;) **

Dean had just left, saying he'd only be gone thirty minutes, only THIRTY, and was extremely vehement about that, despite John trying to get him to just hit the sack. But he left, two minutes ago, and now John was sitting in the creaky, plastic hospital chair next to Sam's hospital bed. It had been about three hours since he was put under, and the doctor's had just taken him out of the medically induced coma.

So when Sam woke up, John wasn't surprised, but it didn't exactly make it any less of a relief. Leaning forward, he smiled briefly, watching as Sam's green (at the time) eyes landed on him. "Hey, Sammy." he said, his voice low and gravely from lack of use.

"Dad." Sam said softly, closing his eyes again, and saying nothing more "What happened back in the house?" John asked the question that had been eating away at him ever since they had gotten to the hospital. Sam's throat constricted and adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, lines creasing on his forehead as if he was trying to stay calm. "He... he told me..." Sam whispered, his eyes opening again, boring into John's, accusing, confused, distraught.

"Told you what, son?" John asked, though he had a sinking feeling that he already knew. "I know you know." Sam whispered, again with the accusing, and d mn, it hurt. Because he did. And Sam did too. And there were some many emotions crossing Sam's face... Nodding slowly, John looked down at his hands that were clenching and rubbing each other, taking a deep, steadying breath.

"We'll figure it out." he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Figure what out!?" Sam croaked. "We're family, and family sticks together." John said, looking back up to meet frantic green eyes. "You're not even my Father." "D mnit, listen to me, you may have his blood, but you have mine too!" John growled. Sam only flinched and looked away. "You didn't tell me, but you knew. What the h#ll is wrong with you?" Sam suddenly snapped, looking back over at John. "I was only trying to keep you safe! I didn't know how you would react, I was just trying to keep you safe from the truth!" John retorted angrily. "Safe? SAFE? Dean's the one who protects this family. He's the one whose kept me 'safe'. Keep me 'safe' from the 'truth'? Or just give me a false sense of humanity?!" "Don't go there, Samuel! I was going to kill that son of a b!tch, then you'd never have to know, never have to life with the truth! The truth is painful!" "Oh, wouldn't have to 'know'? Know that..." Sam stopped, taking a breath that sounded painful.

"I know what he said to you, b-" John started, only to be interrupted by his youngest. "NO YOU DON'T!" he yelled, shooting up into a sitting position on the bed and grabbing fistfulls of John's jacket in his hands, the grimace and pain lines riding his face only proved that the morphine wasn't fully doing it's job. John ignored his nature urge to fight back, only roughly get gently pushed Sam back against the bed, before standing up and walking towards the window of the room. Staring out at the roof tops, and signs, and buildings he could see from the window, he took deep, calming breaths. He could hear Sam's heart beat monitor beeping wildly and Sam's breathing sounding strained with emotion. "Does... D-dean know?" Sam suddenly sounded like a child, vulnerable, small, scared.

"No. And we're gonna keep it that way." John said, not moving from his position. "Why... because he's... he's your perfect solider? Because-because he wouldn't protect a hell spawn?" Sam's voice was tear-filled. "He'll be back any minute, so if you don't calm down..." there was an unspoken threat that John hadn't even meant to add.

John swallowed his guilt as Sam fell silent.

Just as predicted, Dean bustled into the room holding a coffee in one hand, his jacket in the other, holding a chinese-take-out bag between his teeth, and closing the door with one foot. His eyes seemed to bulge and a smile grew on his face as he mumbled something around the take-out bag. He moved towards the desk next to the bed, setting everything down on it before going to sit on the bed, grinning as he looked down at his finally conscious brother. "Hey-a Sam." he piped cheerfully. Sam's smile didn't reach his eyes, and the only reason his voice didn't blatantly give away his distress was the raw, smoke savaged vocal cords.

"Hey Dean."


	8. Chapter 8

**Ellie Reynolds 777: **_Yep! Personally, in the last chapter, when Sam was talking sometimes that was my own insight on it, like, is that all that Dean's good for in your eyes? Of course, I know it's not, he did do what he could with what they had. :) So I've always gotten every side, Dean, Sam, John's, I understand where they're all coming from. Sam could only imagine what it was like to have normal, only guess what a mother was like, and he grew to resent John because he dragged them into it like all he cared about was killing YED. And he just wanted out, a.k.a Stanford. Dean was just trying to hold what was left of his family together, because he'd had four years in Lawrence, and it's just who he is, and when Sam left for college, he probably felt more betrayed than anything, he'd raised him after all, so he probably felt like Sam wanted to get away from not just John, but him. John wanted what was best for his kids, because a parent, any real parent, wants their kids to be safe. But he always thought about safe as staying alive, not how much it would scar his kids._

**_Souless666:_**_ Thank you! Yeah, I believe you're write about the black and white thing. But when someone's hurt you, scarred you, there's that little sense of 'I want them to be bad'. Want them to feel guilty. All that stuff. And I think Sam is the only one who really cares he has demon blood. (And maybe Dean sometimes, too, but still. :P) But being a monster, it's not what you have done, what's in your blood, who your parents are, it only is what you're going to do, and who you are in the present._

_**Superwholockedgirl53: **Whooooo, that was a mouthfull to type. Haha! Thank you for all the reviews!:D Your last one made me laugh :3 Hehe. Things get bad when Dean's left out of the family meetings! Lol! I'm going to write something in this chapter just for you, Superwholockedgirl53. ;) _

_**ENJOY! Writing to Anberlin, Birds of Prey! (If you need some new music, try Anberlin!:)) "Listening to what the writer listened to when they wrote it, connects the reader, with the writer." ~ VanillaJ1969**_

John woke with a start, his cell phone on the other side of the room started buzzing. Was it a call from the hospital? Dean? Or Sam? He had gone to the motel for a few hours of sleep, and was going to be going back to fill out papers to get Sam released. Had something gone wrong though?

Flying out of his bed in a mad rush, his barefoot landed on a lego that had been left in the floor by the people before him. Howling in pain, he snatched up his phone, limping profusely as pain shot up from his foot. The caller ID was Dean. Flipping it open, he pulled his leg up to see the bottom of his foot, a bright red, lego square stuck in his foot. "Son of a b!tch..." he muttered to himself as he pulled it out, glaring at the red brick. "...Dad?" Dean questioned from the other end of the line. "D mnit. I've got a new huntin' technique, next time we're hunting a wendeigo, we're gonna set up lego bricks on the ground." he grumbled, before throwing it on the floor.

There was something on the other end of the line like stifled laughing. "'S not funny, Dean." he grouched as he glared at the lego on the floor. "Okay, well," Dean started through laughter, "The Doc's came in with the paper's. Can you come?" "Be there in five."

*******SPN*******

"Okay, Samantha, looks like we're not gonna be here to much longer." Dean said to his younger brother, stuffing the cell back in his pocket as he looked over the paperwork. Maybe just to distract himself until they got out of the hospital.

"Great. I hate hospitals." Sam's face was wearing a scowl as he looked around the white room, propping himself up against the wall as he rested one arm over one knee, his head back against the wall, and his gaze on the opposite side of the room straight across from himself. Sam had been avoiding eye contact, but even that was subtle and vague. Dean had never seen him faking this well. There was something he was hiding, but not even John would be able to pick up on the sign(s). He didn't know what the h#ll was wrong, but that was exactly what he intended to find out.

Because Sam was a horrible liar, at least, when it came to lying to Dean, unless Dean wanted to believe it. But this... this was just wrong. He had never seen him put on a better poker face, not even when talking to witnesses or FBI, or anyone.

It was like he'd never had a better reason to hide something before.

It was like whatever he was hiding was, well, big.

******SPN*******

Sam couldn't give anything away. He couldn't even breath wrong. Now that was hard, when he felt like he just wanted to hold his breath until Dean left. He found himself trying not to lean away when Dean came near him. He had demon blood. He was unclean, unpure. Whatever humanity he'd ever thought he'd had had been thrown out the window when Azazel told him the truth about himself.

His heart seemed to have taken up permanent housing in his stomach after it had dropped when Azazel and him had spoken.

He didn't want Dean near him.

But he had an idea.

**Sorry it was so short this time! Any idea what Sam's 'idea' is? Or what's going to happen?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Ellie Reynolds 777:** _Yup, yup, thank for guessing and reviewing again, Haha, and I think you saw MY review on YOUR story, right? Imma go check soon. (And this chapter may creep you out, sorry if you totally hate it! Haha! You said you wanted to hug Sam a few reviews back, though!)_

**VanillaJ1969: **_Hehehehehehehehehe that's all i'm gonna say._

**Souless666:** Loved reading the guesses! :D Now I'm not saying if either of you were right on any guesses, or even close, more surprise that way I guess? :)

_**And because I've started doing this: The song I was listening to was, Carry On My Wayward Son, Lullaby with Vocals (Stormy Edit)**_

Sam was sitting outside the hospital on the bench, watching the cars that passed. It had started raining just minutes before. Pulling his hoodie over his head, he rocked back against it, shifting every few seconds. Not that he was uncomfortable there, it was more of a mental thing.

Demon blood.

When he'd heard it, he'd gone through the five stages of grieving, it seemed. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. But right at that moment he didn't know where he was at. All he knew was he had to deal with it again before John and Dean came out, Dean from eating breakfast in the subway (Which he very much hated) and John from filling out a buttload of paperwork.

_"What, you think your 'Daddy' will find you? Yeah, alright, I'm not saying he won't but!" Azazel ran the last sentence in with the word 'but' before continuing his next sentence, holding up one finger in front of his lips as he spun around to look at Sam who was still pinned to the wall. "That doesn't mean it won't be too late." he finished. "What is that supposed to mean?" Sam asked through clenched teeth as he struggled against the invisible weight. "Honestly, kiddo? it means i'm going to tell you something. Some-thin-g-im-po-r-tant..." Yellow Eyes said, sing-song._

_"You have demon blood. My blood, Sammy!" Azazel said, almost like a kid at christmas as he beamed a sick smile, treading forward until he stood in front of Sam so he could poke his finger against Sam's chest. "Family stick together? You and me? We're family. You're my son."_

Sam left the memory, his head ducking and his bangs falling in front of his eyes, a betraying, stray tear escaping one eye. He wiped the back of one hand over his face before letting it fall back to his lap, both hands open and trembling as he stared at them.

Flinching slightly as someone sat on the bench next to him, he looked up at the passing cars again with a quiet sniffing sound, and shooting a sideways glance at the person who'd just sat down. It was a women who had to have been around thirty, had green eyes, and brown hair.

_'No, and we're going to keep it that way.'_

_'You have demon blood.'_

He jumped in surprise (or more like jolted hard enough to have been a seizure spasm) when two arms came around him. He didn't deserve to be touched by a human, a voice said somewhere inside of his mind. Deciding better to sit there like a sack of potatoes, he returned the embrace, albeit hesitantly. Trying to touch her as least amount as he could. She had no idea what he was. He wasn't even human, not fully human, at least.

She pulled back after a second. "Sorry, you looked like you needed a hug." she said with an almost laugh. "I'm Liz," she introduced and waited expectantly. "Sam, and, thank you." he returned with a dimpled smile before leaning back against the bench, distantly pressing his finger tips together before closing his hands around each other.

_'Sorry, you looked like you needed a hug.' _D*mnit, he really had to pull himself together. BEFORE Dean and John came out.

_'No, and we're going to keep it that way.' _

But he couldn't. He couldn't. Yes he could. He didn't WANT to. He couldn't. Dean deserved to know. And in that moment, he imagined at least fifty different reactions and responces. And every one of them made him want to hurl. '_No, and we're going to keep it that way.'_

He didn't know what to do.

**So sorry we didn't get to his 'plan', yet, I'm trying to tie things together though. :) (This one was super short, didn't even realize until I saved it, hah.)**


	10. Chapter 10

**OKaayy peoplez! I think Sam is actually going to have TWO plan's, right-e-o? But in this chapter is almost a half plan, and yeah! Sorry if I get anyone confuzzled, gonna try and make it clear enough!**

** .777: **_Glad you liked it. :) And haha, don't worry about it, I love reading your rants. You're correct! And I totally agree about the 'Sammy's his' thing, I always kinda thought that. :) And I posted a review for your chapter two, but IT. WOULDN'T. SHOW. GR :( And it was long. Gr again. :( I hope it shows up eventually, but if it doesn't, know this: I did post another review, and the story plot for your story is really creative!_

**Souless666: **_I love your ideas, :D I can tell you that you are sort of the reason for what's going to happen, you gave me muse for a certain plot! So I hope you like this chapter and the rest of the story! :D Thanks for the review, again. :)_

Four weeks later:

Four weeks after they left from the hospital, three after they'd left the state, two after they'd run into a job, one after they'd planned the hunt.

Sam was really completely recovered, volunteered to join the hunt, despite both John and Dean being semi skeptical about it. He'd joined, so now there they were, hunting a werewolf that had just turned and camped out in the woods of Colorado. And Sam was actually about to 'start' his plan, one could say. His heart was hammering, but he looked and was as relaxed as he could or should have been on a hunt.

Something moved in front of the three hunters, and out of the trees came the werewolf. Sweating, panting, snarling. It, he, just stood there. _Move it, _Sam almost begged silently, _do something_, because he had to for Sam's plan to work. John, Dean and Sam were all aiming handgun's at it, and John was about to finish the hunt when another gun shot went off. Sam_ accidently _missed, and in a second the wolf was on him, shoving forcefully against him and pushing him towards the cliff behind him. Shots fired into the thing's back and it jolted, slumping against him. His feet were only half on solid ground and the sudden dead weight rocked him back to the point of where he was waving his arms to try and keep his balance, despite his plan. He still couldn't help but panic.

After all, he was only 'human'.

The thing slid off of him and down the cliff, John and Dean were already running towards him, but he was already falling. Everything seemed slow motion.

_"Dean, when we finish this hunt, I have to tell you something." but he'd known there might not have been a next time. But he knew he'd find a way to tell him. He deserved to know._

He landed heavily against something that knocked the air out of him. He'd fallen off a ledge-covered, rocky cliff, and luckily for him, or maybe not so much, he'd fallen on one of them. He vaguely heard John's commanding, yet masked worry voice saying he would get rope or something like that.

"Sam? Sammy! C'mon man, talk to me! You scared me for a second there, buddy!" Dean gave a nervous laugh, his voice bouncing around the wound in the earth. Groaning and gasping for air, Sam rolled over, facing the 'wall'. Cold air blew against his back, the full moon shone brightly overhead. His plan wasn't complete. But neither was his promise. One first, than the other.

"Dean," Sam called back, and his voice echoed back to him so brokenly, so scared, he'd never even realized he sounded like that sometimes. And he wasn't scared of the fall, or the impact, but of the truth that he had to say aloud for the first time. And that would make it _real. _That would make it truly, well, _true. _It would make it reality.

The ledge he was on creaked and groaned threateningly.

"I'm here." Dean's voice sounded low and raw. "Dad 'll be back and-" Sam cut him off, "I need to tell you something." "Now?" Dean's voice was brought back to life with the one, simple word question. "Now." And the younger brother's was shaky and strained.

He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering lightly as another blast of cold air hit him and the wind howled angrily. He waited for it to die down before speaking again. "I have..." Sam made a sound that was choked, like someone was strangling him. "Sammy?" his brother asked, careful, cautious, with the same tone that had been used to encourage him to eat another bite of soup as a two-year-old, or to get Sam to tell him what was killing him emotionally, or... the list could stretch on. It was the voice of a caretaker. A guardian. A protector. A brother, Dean.

"When... when Azazel... killed Mom..." Sam stopped to swallow, not moving from the shallow ledge that was already cracking and crunching more than before. "He um... he gave me his blood." Sam gushed, then flinched as the ledge tilted and moaned again. "I have demon blood." And then the ledge snapped and he was falling again, and Dean was calling his name, and an anti-gravity tear came out of one of his blue eyes, and for whatever reason that made him almost want to laugh and cry, one voice ran through his head.

_"Sorry, but it looked like you needed a hug."_

**Before anyone asks, this is not a death fic! LOl! I did promise that much, didn't I? ;) So sorry I sped through this chapter, REALLY hope you enjoyed it, but I gotta run! RL stuff and all!**


	11. Chapter 11

**I WROTE THIS WHOLE D MNNNNN CHAPTER ON HERE AND IT DELETED ITSELF I'M SO MAD AAAAAAAHHHHH *Cries hysterically* Really made me upset, actually.**

**Sorry I'm not replying to reviews this chapter around, I did last time but since it erased I can't find it in me to re-write them. Sorry, again.**

Sam was falling. PLease work, he begged inside his mind. He saw his brother's expression, reaching as if he could still catch him, screaming his name, and then darkness swept over him and blocked him from his brother. Tore them away from each other. Stole Sam into the night.

Before he splattered on the ground, there was the feeling of being teleported, transported, and he was suddenly on his knees trying to keep from throwing up, his head spinning, chest aching and stomach trying to rebel against him.

"Trying to kill yourself, _Sammy. _ Smart, real smart. Hmh." Azazel's voice had him jumping off the ground, and trying to ride out another vertigo wave.

"Why?" he shouted. "Why what?" Azazel retorted with one arched eyebrow. "Why... why did you not let me die?! Why me? Why didn't you let me die in the fire?" he demanded angrily. He had to make his plan work. But he couldn't help the feeling that he just wanted to smash in the demon's face, even if it wouldn't do him any good.

"Why. Everyone always asks 'why'." Azazel said with a teasing sigh.

"Because, I'm rooting for you, buddy-boy. There's a war, and I need a leader for my army."

"What army?"

"The children like you. Demon blood, special children." Azazel explained with a shrug as he carelessly looked around the building of which he had transported them to.

His heart clenched like it never had before as he imagined the pure terror on Dean's face as he reached for him, and it was so _rich _and so _pure_ that it looked like physically _agony._

And then he imagined Dean and John seeing him working with what ruined their family, the yellow eyed demon, who killed mary and fed him demon blood. But it would be for them. It would all be for them. Because he'd destroyed their family, and the least he could do was try and what had happened because of him.

"Why do you want me? And what do you want me to do?" Sam continued, trying to mask the disgust in his voice with curiosity and intrest. "I want... I want to make you a deal. One that no other has had such a good offer. That offer, that deal is, I teach you. I train you. Apprentice, and master."

SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL

"Sam..." Dean whispered brokenly, dropping to his knees and staring over the cliff edge. "Sammy?!" he tried again, hope lining his voice as it bounced throughout the gaping hole in the earth. But there was nothing. And he knew that there would have been nothing. Deep down, at least.

He hadn't noticed John behind him, hadn't noticed his father's quiet sounds. He moved towards the cliff edge, desperate, and tried to climb, find footing, he had to... He had to watch out for Sam. Had to protect him.

"Dean..." John coughed, trying to make his voice stronger from the weak sound that it had come out as. Dean ignored him, still trying to find the safest place to climb down. "Dean, stop!" John sounded more commanding that time. "No, he's alive!" Dean said, determined, hopeful, as he found a place to climb down.

"Stop! Please, you'll kill yourself!" Dean had never heard John like that. But he didn't care. He just cared about getting to Sam.

A strong arm wrapped around his chest and hauled him back away from the cliff edge, and he didn't fight or scream like he wanted to, he just went with it as a deadweight. "He has to be alive." Dean's voice turned to a small squeaking sound, child-like in its sound.

But realization and truth hit him. His baby brother was lying broken at the bottom of the hole. And John must have thought that too, because Dean had never heard such a heart broken, heart wrenching wail-like sound. And it only mixed with his own quiet cries.

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"So, what do you say?" The Yellow-eyed demon asked again, with his naturally jeering voice.

"yes..." Sam said, his eyes squeezed shut, shaky hands clenched and his head bowed.

"What's that?" Azazel said with a sly grin.

"I said yes."

**Holy crap I re-wrote that in two minutes. HhahahaXD Typing classes are amazing.**


	12. Chapter 12 AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Sorry I haven't posted except once this week, I've ran out of muse! It keeps escaping me! I don't know when the next chapter will come, with my muse playing cat and mouse with me and all. **


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you Souless666, just the message gave me muse to write again! So here's a chapter... :) Hope you like it. This story has really changed up from how it began, haha xD  
**

There was air wick. Sam could smell sweet coconut and island palm drifting through the air. Mexico, that's where they were. The walls of the house they were in were an orange-cookie color, there were yucca-like plants in pots all around the large building. Sam and Azazel weren't even inside of the house, just in the front yard, on the patio, where the lawn just beyond it was surprisingly green and smelled like recently cut grass. The air wick was a mystery of where it had come from, though. Must have drifted through the house's sliding glass door. _Where did they even find air wick, anyway? _Sam thought.

"What do you want?!" the demon growled angrily, blinking, showing black eyes. It snarled using the native's face. "Uh... well, not you, if that's what you were asking." Azazel quipped, before looking back at Sam with a crooked smile. "Take it away, _Sammy._"

Sam put one hand forward, concentrating. His jaw muscle twitched as he shifted from one foot to the other, pain lines creasing on his face. The demon climbed up the 'meant-suit's' throat, black smoke puffing out of his mouth as he gagged, the demon trying to reel itself back in.

Sam and Azazel had been practicing for a over a month, at least, a month and three days give or take. Pretty much non-stop practice. And there was a plus side to it, he could actually save some of the people, when he got good enough, he could save some of the possessed. When he got good enough. Maybe it was because he wasn't fully 'embracing' it, fully accepting it, that he was always _almost _succeeding. Never _quite _there, but always so _close. _But this time was different. It had been a full month, the twenty-two-year-old knew why he was doing what he was doing, and he hadn't seen John or Dean since he'd fallen off the cliff. Fallen off of it on a hunch. But a correct hunch. The only one he had been around had been Azazel, and he had to constantly remind himself of why he was doing what he was doing.

"C'mon Sam, just embrace it." Azazel encouraged. And that's how it was different, because for the first time, he did. It felt like a nuclear bomb went off inside of his skull, but the demon was out of the person, making the sound of a million tiny voices screaming as the black smoke clouded around the unconscious native.

Blood dripped off of his face, leaving crimson marks from his nose, his knees suddenly turning weak. Azazel nonchalantly flicked his hand, and the demon lifted and disappeared through an orange wall.

A bomb definitely went off inside his head, he decided.

"See, I-told-you." Azazel sing-songed, his voice having something close to fatherly affection. "Okay, well, we're gone!" he said, and suddenly the world was spinning, and they were both dropped somewhere, a motel, back in America. Sam's motel room that he had checked into the day before. "Call me when the radiation's gone." Azazel said with a smirk before disappearing. Sam looked dumbfounded for several moments before he got the joke, rolling his eyes dramatically. Then his heart clench painfully. As always. Dean wasn't DEAD, so why did that always happen? Maybe because to him, to him and John, HE was the dead one, dead and gone. He hadn't really been keeping tabs on them. He'd been pre-occupied. But maybe now that things were actually moving along, he should.

Maybe now he should.

Moaning and pinching the bridge of his nose, he hissed in pain. "Gah..."

"Ssss," he groaned, pressing his fingers on his temples, then the palms of his hands against them in an attempt to stop the pounding. Sniffing, he moved one hand, wiping at the blood gathering on his chin. He swallowed harshly, tasting the bitter tang and metallic flavor of blood.

He stood up off of the bed, stumbling into the bathroom and leaving the door open as he peered into the mirror, leaning over the sink. Blinking, he let his head drop, huffing out a sigh, and he stayed that way for what felt like hours before moving again. Moving only to splash water on his face, and then he leaned his head against the faucet, water dripping off his nose and mingling with the dark red, making it look ever lighter. He moved back into a normal standing position to turn the water on yet again, watching the light red pool swirl down the drain.

He'd done it. He'd done it, finally.

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A month, five days, two hours and... yes, Dean could literally say the seconds. Sam wasn't dead. He _knew, _he just freaking _knew._ Instinct, or hope, or a gut feeling, you could call it whatever you like. He was going to find him.

Papers were scattered around the motel room, pinned to the walls, salt lines on the windows and doors, some salt rubbed into the carpet elsewhere, the smell of the gun-cleaning-oil filled the room. Dean himself looked no better than the motel room. Not that he had hunt leads pinned to him or salt ground into him... more like dark bags under his eyes, pale, clammy looking skin, wrinkled clothes.

Sam hadn't been in that chasm. He hadn't been at the bottom, but Dean had seen him fall off of the cliff, watched him fall to what had looked to have been his death. But there wasn't even blood, not even a speck, there was just no sign of him, like he'd disappeared.

Two weeks before, John and him had split up. They'd had an argument, and not just your average fight. Neither of them had really been sleeping, and one comment that sounded, even hinted that Sam was no longer alive, and Dean would be set off. Now he knew that what John had said hadn't been meant any certain way, just that something could have happened to him, and that Dean needed to let his body rest so he could think straight, so he would stay sharp. But in an exhausted, angry, distraught state of mind it had seemed like something completely different.

And now he may have regretted all that he'd said, but he didn't even want to call John right then. All he really wanted to do was find Sam.


	14. Chapter 14

**31 reviews! THat made my day! I've never gotten to that point before. :) Some people are all... man... I only have 500 reviews! Haha.**

**Dani: **_Thanks for the review! And he's ingesting a small amount of demon blood I think, but no where near the amount in season four or anything. So you're correct! ANyways, hope you like this chapter! :)_

**Souless666: **_Well, I've been debating, (With Sam's personality in mind) what he would have developed if he'd fully accepted it. So I hope everything I'll be coming up with and adding is, um, can't think of the correct word that I was looking for... grr... hate it when that happens, xD. Acceptable? I don't remember the word. Soon as I post this, watch, poof, I'll remember. Always. Hahaha! xDDD Lol._

"What, you think that was ALL you could do? Nah. Don't think so, _Kiddo, _and now that you've accepted it, switches will start flipping inside your mind." Azazel said. "So what do I have to do?" Sam returned with a question. They were in the motel room, Azazel circling Sam and playing with a puzzle box in his hands.

"Well, you have to find what you can do. You have to, open your mind to all possibilities. Tell you what, I have a test for you. I've sent some minor league demons your brother's way, trust me Sammy when I say that I this is the only way I've come up with to bring out those pesky little powers of yours." Sam was afraid his eyes might have bulged out of his skull. Swallowing hard, he frowned, working his jaw back and forth.

"Well, get a move on. Don't want big brother hurt, do we?"

Angrily, Sam stormed out of the motel room, slamming the door behind himself. How was he supposed to find him? How was he supposed to get there in time? Great, _just great. _It had been just a few weeks after he had excorsized the demon. They'd practiced on a few more demons in that time, before Azazel got 'bored' and had decided to move on.

So now, there he was, and he had no idea where to start. _Use your head, Sam. _He commanded himself, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a shuddering breath. Dean's life was in danger, even if he didn't think Azazel would allow the demons to kill him, demons didn't always listen. Besides, 'not to kill' didn't mean 'not to hurt'. He dug through one of his jean pocket's, pulling out his cell phone. He'd been avoiding this. But Dean was in danger, and he didn't care what Azazel thought of his tactics, he was using what resources he had.

So he dialed. And waited.

"Singer Salvage." a gruff voice answered.

"If Dad's there, don't say my name. I need to know where my brother is. Where's Dean?" he said instantly. "Hey, Rufus." _d mn, _he thought, he'd forgotten just how good the old hunter was, when he heard the instantly reply. So one of them was there. "You're in Minnisota? Hun'n what? A Rawhead, I see." A smile crossed Sam's face for a brief second. "Thanks, Bobby." he said, flipping the phone closed and putting it back in his pocket.

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Dean was getting restless. There hadn't been a sign of Sam for almost two months, that was how long he HADN'T seen his brother in. His phone started buzzing, and the looked away from the rawhead leads that he had gathered. He'd stopped the search for Sam only for a few days, giving himself that long to hunt, and then he could come back to it fresh, keep looking for his little brother. When he answered the phone, his heart either stopped or started again. "Dean, yer brother, he called just half an hour ago wan'n to know where ya are. I told him. He's coming. I think at least. He's back."

Because Bobby had been helping both John and Dean, but he'd leaned more towards helping Dean. He'd agreed. There hadn't been any blood, no proof that Sam was dead. Even though John had thought the same thing, he had just been looking in all the wrong places.

Dean let out a huffing, one laugh, standing up off the chair and rubbing his free hand across his eyes, pacing the ugly motel room. "What did he say?" he asked finally. "Not much. But Dean, he just disappeared off the map for nearly two months- be careful. We've got no idea what's happened to him, an' I'm sorry to say that."

"Yeah I know, I know. Let's just wait and see."

**So, sorry for the suppper short chapter! But it's a chapter non the less, right? :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Souless666: **_He used Dean to draw Sam's powers out, as like, when Sam moved that one thing away from the closet door because he had the vision of Dean dying? THat was the only time he ever used telekinesis other than on Alistair... (Did he use it against Alistair?) Well, it was the only or close to only time. Sooo, I guess he figured it was the only way to really get the powers to come out._

Demons. He should have known. Somehow they'd just twisted it to sound like Sam's voice, and pow, demons. Dean decided that as two black-eyed monsters cleared off the motel room's desk, and two others grabbed one of his arms each, pushing him down against the table. Somehow when he'd opened the door, eagerly, (And may he add naively?) expecting Sam, he'd smeared the salt line. Things had just gone from crappy, to super crappy, to even worse.

He shoved his feet against one of the demon's chest, twisting to get to the holy water in his jacket pocket. A strong fist collided with Dean's jaw and he let out a groan of pain, but didn't stop. The demon's looked more amused than anything. He snarled angrily as one of them easily pulled his hand and pinned it down on the table. "D mnit!" he cursed, letting his head thump back against the desk.

One of the demons pulled a knife from its oversized, baggy, dirty jacket, a smile growing on its bewhiskered face.

Dean growled again, kicking a demon away from himself, when another one took its place. There must have been at least five demons. He was already trying to find a way to get himself out of the mess he had un-intentionally gotten drawn into, when the door was kicked in, and in tumbled a hoodie-wearing, blue jeans, plaid shirt, tan army boots, floppy haired Sam Winchester.

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"Sam, you gonna help us, or send us away with that little mind trick of yours?" one of the demons snarled, the one holding the knife. "I was thinking the latter." Sam replied, with what sounded more like an angry, inhuman growl. "We're doing what Azazel said, just like you. So get over here and help!" another one snapped. "You know, out of the six of us, who do you think he needs most?"

"Son of a…" one of them cursed, realization dawning on all of their faces. Of course they weren't supposed to attack the brother, YED had set them up to have two angry Winchesters on their hands. Sam could feel his heart racing as he risked a glance at his brother. This moment was going to be the one he'd feared since he'd taken the 'job', this very moment. But he didn't have a choice.

With a hand outstretched, he clenched his jaws, closing his eyes. He'd accepted the power weeks ago, and controlling demons was becoming easier and easier each day. The phantom headache had already appeared, but it wasn't hitting like a freight train like it used to. The demons poured from the human's mouths, black smoke floating above the floor as the five people dropped limply onto the carpet. They desperately fought against his hold over them, trying to get free. The smoke sounded like it was screaming, the million tiny voices that it seemed to have. "_When we get out, we'll KILL Dean Winchester!" _they screamed in unison. The tiny sounds made sense, like his mind translated into words.

"No you won't." he said out loud. A smile grew on his face, and he could feel the demon blood rushing through his veins, he could feel the power. He clenched his outstretched hand into a tight fist, something exploded in his mind, his own power burst from him like a sonic wave.

He was focusing to hard to notice Azazel teleport behind him, putting a hand on his should and smiling approvingly. Focusing to hard to see Dean's horrified, disbelieving stare.

The five demons turned on each other. They collided, black, barely seeable shapes clawing at each other, screaming and biting, gnashing teeth. Ripping each other apart.

Sam controlled them, made them fight, and they could only go along with it like puppets on strings. Soon the black smoke exploded, or the ghostly bodies within the smoke tore each other completely apart, and what was left of the smoke dissipated into the carpet; now just appearing as though what was left had merely come from a broken fog machine.

"That's intriguing." Azazel broke the silence.

Sam groaned in pain, and was already falling to the floor with Azazel pulled his arm over the demon's own shoulders. He held up the lax youngest Winchester, smirked at Dean, winked, than disappeared.


	16. Chapter 16

**Souless666: **_Thanks for reviewing, again, reviews really make my day! :D And I'm glad you liked it! Glad it was visually... correct? Nice? Picturesque? This is really NOT my week, haha xD It has to be one of those. I'm positive the word I was looking for was one of those. Just which one... that's another thing completely.__  
_

**Dani: **_I love reading rant reviews. HahaxD Of course, I have to apologize, I don't know if you found an inconsistency? But if you did, and it doesn't fit with the show, I'm so sorry! Some of the questions posed in reviews help me notice things I missed or forgot to add. In answer to the question of Did Azazel know: No, I don't believe he did either. I think he kinda knew, though, but not completely. And in this story, he just thinks he's the Boy King, supposed to lead an army and all that jazz. *Clicks* :)_

**VanillaJ1969: **_I talk to you every day so I don't know if I need to say anything on here ;) Lol. _

"What the h#ll?!" Sam yelled. It was the next day. Sam had been unconscious the whole night, woken up with a splitting headache, nose bleed, and sore, but still hadn't hesitated to pick a fight with the demon who had waited the whole night for him to wake back up. Azazel only seemed to be trying to placate the psychic.

"I told you, I was bringing your powers out of the dark. They don't seem to want to come out on their own. You wanna explain to me why, Sammy?" Azazel said, voice eerily calm, a smile playing on his lips as his head cocked to the side in one jerky motion. "I don't have to explain anything to you!" Sam roared angrily, chest heaving. "Let _me_ explain than: _I _think, that _you," _the yellow eyed demon paused for a moment, jabbing a finger against Sam, just under his right clavicle, "Haven't really accepted it. Maybe you never will, but maybe you will, someday. But right now? Nah. It should be like the first day of school! New information should be pouring in, new powers that you discover, overwhelming at first until you get it sorted out in your own brain."  


"Why me? Why does it have to be me!?" Sam yelled, taking a step back from Azazel. "Okay, changing brain channels. Are you talking about leading the army? You, the Boy King?" Azazel returned, not waiting for an answer, just continuing. "It's always been about you."

"I tried! I tried everything! But I'm just damned, aren't I? It's in my blood, but it's not even just that, IS it?! It's just ME! Why Mom died? JESS? I killed them!"

"Imma let you in on a little secret. Your Mommy made a deal." Sam felt the whole world screeched to a stop. "What?" he breathed out. "But not for her soul, no no no. I mean, sure I asked first, but SHE said yes. Ol' Johnny Winchester kicked the bucket, you see. And I asked her about the demon blood. She said yes, no hesitation." Azazel said. And maybe if Sam wasn't so distressed he would have caught on that it was a half truth. Sam moved the bloody tissue away from his nose and collapsed backwards onto the bed.

"Seems like not even Mary cared about poor little Sammy. Admit it to yourself, John and Dean, they never needed you. You were just a burden. But I, me, I cared about you before you were even born. I picked you, out of thousands of children. I. Picked. You. Your real family, is me, and every other demon or special kid out there. All the demon blood 'freaks', and everything like us. We're your family. You're our family."

Everything in the room shuddered, the beds, the desk, the lamp on the desk. The window's quaked then exploded outward, the light bulb and lights in the bathroom and main room burst in sync. The refrigerator stopped its humming as the cord caught on fire, small flames exploding and starting to climb the wall, the same thing happening with the TV.

Every demon within miles poured from their 'meat suits', all collecting outside the one motel room, black smoke squealing, figures battling within the smoke, claws scraping, screams of anger and pain erupting as the young demon blood psychic sat on the bed, head in his hands, silent, power crackling off of him like volts of electricity. Azazel smiled approvingly, wickedly.

SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL

Dean stared at the glass in his hand. He was at the local bar, sitting on a bar stool. The bartender was obviously trying to flirt, saying random things suggestively, but he just didn't have it in him to return them, or anything else. He just stared glumly at the recently refilled whisky glass. Sam. His brother. Controlling demons with his mind. Making them fight each other, killing each other, all with his mind. _I have demon blood._ The four words echoed in his mind, as did the image of his brother, falling to what had seemed at the time, like his death.

He pulled out his phone, and with shaky hands, he called Bobby. As soon as the older man picked up, he jumped straight into it. "If Dad's there, put me on speaker." There was a gruff grunt, murmuring in the background, then the sound of the phone set on the table. "Dean?" that was John.

"I saw Sammy. He killed five demons with his mind right in the motel room after I got attacked. The demon, THE demon zapped there, and," he had to stop to steady his voice, rubbing one hand across his face as he stood up off the seat, hastily making an exit from the bar and going into the back where he'd parked the Impala. "And took Sam. I don't know what the h#ll I saw, but it's not good," d mnit, again with the shaky voice, "And I think... I think..." _I think Sam's working with Azazelmybabybrothersworkingwiththedemonthatdestroyedourfamily. _"I think he did something to Sam. I don't know what but-but we have to figure this out. We have to get Sam back." because he couldn't say what had crossed his mind. He couldn't even think, or didn't want to think, about John's reaction. He honestly didn't know what he'd say or do. Or maybe he didn't want to know.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and Dean was already hopping into the Impala, ready to go to Sioux falls.

"Alright, Dean, just get'cher $$ over here and we'll figure it out, I'll call the roadhouse and..." Bobby trailed off, making an annoyed huffing sound as something crashing could be heard. "John! John, d mnit, if you break one more thing I'll shoot you so full a' rock salt you'll crap margaritas! WINCHESTER!" Dean gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, pulling out of the bar's parking lot and already driving towards Bobby's. "D mnit! D MNIT!" John's voice angrily bellowed in the background.

This was going to be a long week.

**Azazel is a truth bending terd monkey. So anyways, I really hope you like it! Please drop a review if you can, it totally means the world, and without them I actually don't know where I'll go with this story! I literally got most of the plot from something Souless666 said, though I started it and the entire plot is bent around something Ellie reynolds 777 said, and then Dani gave me an idea for this chapter so... you see my point? **


	17. Chapter 17

**Dani: **_Yep yep! And it was because, well, I'll leave that up for you to decide. :) Haha, yeah, okay then :) I have no idea if any of the demons knew what Lucifer really planned to do. Maybe Ruby. Ruby had to have known to some degree, right? And Lilith maybe? *Shrugs* And yeah, I may go away from some of the show's logic and ideas and stuff, but I don't know yet. I'll try and give a heads up if I do, It's just that I write this chapter by chapter that I really don't know what I'm gonna do in the next chapter!_

**Souless666:** _Glad you liked it. :) And haha, dodo. I think, well, spoiler, if you don't like spoilers just skip this message, haha xD: I think he's actually going to use them with his demon army. Not sure what I'll/Azazel'll do with 'em yet, but that kinda makes sense so I might do that. :)_

**Ellie Reynolds 777:** _I haven't heard from you in a while_ on FFN, not in messages or anywhere. And I can't review your story! If you read this, well, I'm starting to worry about you!

Weeks. Two more weeks since it had happened. Ash would tell them where the yellow eyed demon was, then when they got there, they would miss him by seconds. No, they would miss him AND Sam by seconds. Dean sat in the roadhouse, staring down at a stack of papers Ash had just dropped in front of him. He numbly fumbled through them. Pretty much all hunters, hunters at the roadhouse, hunters elsewhere, had learned of the demon and his new 'Boy King'. Either they'd heard it from a demon they'd exorcised, or from other hunters. 

the roadhouse was filled with quiet murmuring, all of the people there at night were hunters, or at least, there that night. Plaid, jeans, beer and open case files. He heard Ash leaning across the bar counter, arms crossed over each other as he spoke to a hunter who was probably asking him to help with a hunt. Ash leaned back, flipping his hair over his shoulder, "Gimme... fifteen hours."

Ellen was talking to a hunter apparently named 'Gordon Walker', and Jo was sitting on one of the bar stools, a hand on her hip and the other on the bar. "Get out of here, Walker." Ellen stated simply, and Dean vaguely heard 'Gordon's' grumbles as he started to walk towards the door. Right after the hunter left, the door opened again, and in came three new guys. One of them was wearing a black hoodie, hood pulled over his head and his hands stuffed in the pockets, while the other two looked grouchier than Bobby without whiskey.

One of them stood tall, but not as tall as the hoodie guy, and the other was short and squat. "Stay here. No matter what happens, you're not to get involved." the hoodie guy said, his voice was young, yet commanding. Dean didn't know whether to punch the hoodie man, or hug him, because he recognized that voice. Subtly he watched him cross the room to sit down on the bar stool beside him, staring down at the 'table'.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, or something close to a whisper, leaning, one hand gripping under Sam's chin, and pulling his face towards him, so they met eye-to-eye. The younger sibling's face was covered in shadows from the hood, and the lighting made it so all he could see, basically, were hazel eyes staring back at him. "What the h#ll are you doing?" it could have meant doing at the roadhouse, or doing in general, or going to be doing, Dean himself didn't know what exactly he had meant by that. What he did know was that Sam, being in that bar, at that time of day: well, he couldn't get rid of years of 'protect Sammy' in just a few months. Especially not when he didn't know exactly what was going on as it was. And Sam was in danger there. No, not Sam Winchester. The Boy King was, though. The youngest Winchester pulled his face out of Dean's hand.

"Stop looking." Sam said. Of all the things he were to say, that was not what Dean had been expecting, though maybe he should have. "Why?" "You're going to get yourselves killed. Ellen, Jo, Ash, Bobby, Dad, you. He's getting annoyed. Trust me, he's not fun to deal with when he's annoyed." Sam replied, his poker face was there, or Dean imagined it was, but he could hear the vague underlining tone of concern. _Concern. No. _Something stronger than that. More pure than that.

Sam stood and strolled towards the door, and instantly the two guys he had come in with fell in line behind him. Dean slammed his fist down on the bar, and as he stood the chair squealed as it rubbed against the floor. But before Sam got out the door, and before Dean got to his little brother, Gordon Walker shoved the door open against the youngest Winchester, who only backed up in vague surprise. "It's the Boy King. You're Azazel's apprentice. Has he taught you how to ruin someones life yet? Taught you how to kill? Or is it natural?" the dark-skinned man asked, and instantly hunters rose from their seats, reaching for weapons.

Dean swallowed down his momentary panic, walking towards them with his hands outstretched un-threateningly. "Whoa, this must be some kind of mistake!" he said with a humorless laugh. Sam back peddled, raising a hand to one of his 'goons' as they stepped forward, eyes turning pitch black. At that, everyone jumped into action. The demons, obviously under some silent order from Sam, tried to stay out of the fight. That didn't last long when the first flask of holy water was thrown. It hissed in pain, snapping the hunter's neck and letting him drop to the floor. "D mnit," Sam cursed, extending a hand towards his two demons, but before he could do anything he was getting hauled towards the pool table.

"DEAN!" he roared.

SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL

Sam struggled against the five or four hunters. He didn't want to hurt them, they were only human. He didn't want to hurt them. All of his taught-to-him-by-John attacks were countered with either more experienced fighters or equally as experienced. The only training that could get him out of it would have been the training from Azazel, and he wasn't using that, he wouldn't use it against people.

Between two of the hunters dragging him, he could see Dean trying to get through the fighting group, could see Ash ducking and empty flask of holy water and spinning around to look at it, pulling a face, then he was blocked from Sam's vision, along with Dean. The twenty-two-year-old was practically thrown onto the pool table, as he lifted his head someone grabbed his hair and slammed it back down.

"Dean!" he yelled again, trying to stifle a gasp and failing as pain shot through his skull, the one hunter slamming his head against the pool table several more times. He groaned, closing his eyes, opening his mouth as if to say something but instead only swallowing loudly and harshly.

He could hear Gordon talking, murmuring in a slow, quiet voice. Apologizing. That's what he was doing.

Sam opened his eyes, seeing a knife in the older man's hand. But he refused. He wouldn't use the powers against humans, he refused. He strained against the people who held him down, grunting as his already pounding head was yanked down once again against the pool table.

A shot rang through the roadhouse, probably from Ellen trying to get them all to stop, to calm down. Which meant the two demons were gone or exorcised.

SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL SUPERNATURAL

Dean fought his way through the slowly calming down hunters after Ellen fired the shot, making his way towards the pool table where he'd heard Sam calling his name. The hunter growled dangerously, pulling his Taurus from his waistband. A cry of pain set him off. "Step away from my brother," he snarled, aiming at the closest guy. They were all blocking his view of Sam. The guy who he had his gun trailed at turned around, a bald, middle aged man, opening his mouth to defend his actions. Another pain filled sound from Sam set him off one last time.

He aimed at the man's knee, firing, and disregarding the scream. Slowly the hunters backed off, hands raised slightly as they moved slowly away from the pool table. Dean's eyes were staring at the four men, just in case. "You okay, little brother?" he asked. The only reply he got was a groan. Panic started wrapping around his soul and he sent Sam a quick glance.

His brother was rolling off the table, one arm wrapped around his stomach, hood knocked off his head in the skirmish. "Talk to me, Sammy!" Dean was afraid his voice came out rushed, but not that afraid. He didn't really care all that much.

Instantly he dropped the handgun as his brother pitched forward, dead weight when he caught him. "Sam? Sam!" Dean lowered him to the ground, looking at his baby brother's face for the first time in weeks. His mouth was opening and closing like a fish, he was gasping for air, eyes screwed shut. Dean started assessing him, looking for the injury...

Blood seeped around Sam's arm. "Hey, hey... come here, come here, let me look at ya." The elder brother ignored the protests from him as he moved his arm, one hand gripping the back of Sam's neck, the other trying to look at the injury. Fear and panic finally settled inside of him, sharp like werewolves claws digging into his flesh. Blood seeped out of a knife wound, and even as he desperately tried to stop the bleeding with his hand and Sam's it still spilled out.

"Oh, hey look, it's not even that bad... It's not even that bad, alright? Sammy, Sam! Hey, listen to me, we are going to patch you up okay... You'll be as good as new. Huh? I'm going to take care of you, I'm going to take care of you! I gotcha. It's my job, right, watch after my pain-in-the-a$$ little brother... Sam... Sam... Sam! Sammy!"


	18. Chapter 18

**Dani: **_I know, I was totally off my game. Haha:P Sorry! *Looks down in shame* Haha, and yeah, I'm sure she did have traps and stuff! But this story wasn't wrapping up like I wanted, I had to speed it up. Okay, so, I'll put an author's note at the end and just kinda explain, well, something, haha :) So, sorry the last chapter was kinda clunky! :P Lol :)_

  
Dean sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair, leaning backwards and then forward again. The ambulance had gotten there, then in a blur he didn't remember he'd followed it to the hospital, filled out paper work, listened to the doctor drone on about what had happened and on, and on. 

When he'd gone to the room, Sam had been awake. Quiet, silent, staring.

Dean was pulled out of his reminiscing when Sam finally spoke.

"Stupid plan, right?" he said dryly.

"Yeah." Dean only agreed, and then they were silent for a long while again.

"D mn this sucks." Sam spoke up again with a humorless snort. "Which thing?" Dean asked darkly. "All of it." was the reply he got. "Yeah, that's the truth." "This all started because I was being naive. Trying to 'prove' myself." Sam said with another humorless laugh. "What?" Dean asked in mild surprise.

Sam stayed silent, an almost annoyed look crossing his face. In that moment, Dean wished he could read minds.

With an odd expression, Sam started speaking again, "What happens now?"

Frankly, Dean doubted John with be on 'team Sam'. Dean had called and told Bobby what had happened about an hour ago, and he had told John, and called Dean back saying he'd be there in a few days, being across the country, opposite sides of the US.

With a deep breath, Dean coughed awkwardly, before speaking up. "The whole... the whole 'demon blood', the powers... There's only one way to end all of this. And that's us, together, against Azazel."

There was another moment of silence, a moment of Sam shifting painfully on the hospital bed, and a moment of hope flashing in green eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, yeah."

"Us against the world, right?"

Sam only smiled. "What?" Dean asked, confused. "Nothing," Sam said with a soft laugh. "WHAT?" "Nothing!" Sam was still smiling. "Yeah, sure, nothing."

"Honestly!"

"Sure, b!tch."

"Yeah, jerk."

**Okkkayy so we have come to a clunky stop! LOL! The sequel is up for adoption! If you want to take over this story, do so please please and just post a link in a review! :) That would be great, but if not... well, guess we shall see, right? So thank you all for sticking with me through this long, hard journey. ;) I'm sorry I stopped it there, but it was getting super difficult for me, and that's why the sequel is up for adoption.**

**The second book in the Turn of the Tides is out, by the way, if anyone's interested. :) No one was really interested in the first, hahaha, but I'm still gonna inform y'all. xD**

**Thank you:**

**Adelina Suchi**

**CoooperNatural67**

**Hacked it out and Fell**

**Katiejene**

**LittleSilence**

**Scrappinggirl**

**Spnlove101**

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**VanillaJ1969**

**Ellie Reynolds 777**

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